


Save a Horse

by rhysiana



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, College-aged Characters, Cowboy Chris Argent, Cowboy Hats, Flirting, M/M, Making Out, Stripper Peter Hale, brief mention of gerard argent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-09-24 12:33:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20358571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhysiana/pseuds/rhysiana
Summary: Chris wasn't expecting to spend his evening at a strip club, and he wasdefinitelynot expecting Peter Hale, of all people, to be one of the strippers.





	Save a Horse

**Author's Note:**

> How my brain works: This entire thing happened because I was rereading @bleep0bleep’s fics, and I read this [Sterek stripper AU](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1150170), and Derek’s song choice ("Leave Your Hat On") collided in my brain with Ian’s current role on _Yellowstone_ and morphed into this Chris/Peter cowboy/stripper AU. And then dizzy-redhead and anodyneer egged me on. This ship needs more ridiculous AUs anyway!

Some day, Chris promises himself, he’s going to be able to live his life without prefacing every decision with a quick check of what his father will think, and on that day, he might finally, _finally_ be able to relax. But today is not yet that day, and that’s why he’s at a strip club, because being here is less work than sitting through a lecture about needing to _fit in_ with the other hands if he’s going to truly understand how to run the ranch one day.

Never mind that Kate is obviously going to be the one to inherit. Whatever, it’s better summer pay than he’d get most any place else, and he knows how to do the job. It’s just the mandatory socializing that gets to him.

The couple of other guys he’s here with stake out a table near the front and order a pitcher for the table, and he’s settling back to zone out as much as possible when the lights go down and the stage spotlight turns on, and the dancer comes out.

Chris hears the squeal of his chair as he starts back in shock and he freezes. Antonio Calavera is glaring at him from across the table.

“I—I can’t—I don’t—” Chris gasps out, because that dancer is a _dude_, and if his dad finds out, he will be horsewhipped, and he’s not sure he means that in any kind of metaphorical sense. He’s been so careful.

“Settle,” Ernesto says, for all the world like he’s talking to a fractious horse, and Chris is annoyed that it works.

“You don’t fool us, cabrón,” Antonio says, pouring himself a glass and turning back to the stage.

“Shut up,” Ernesto tells him, and squeezes Chris’s shoulder. “We won’t tell your father, or anyone else. We just know, and you look like you need a night out, yeah?”

Well, it’s not like they’re wrong. And they’re just on loan from their mother’s ranch for the summer, too. Chris nods sharply and pours a beer for himself. He’s gonna need it.

He damn near chokes to death when the next dancer to take the stage is Peter goddamn Hale.

Peter Hale whose mother heads the wildlife conservancy foundation and his father hates with a fiery passion. Peter Hale who he’s shared three environmental science classes so far in their first two years of college. Peter Hale who has flirted outrageously with him the whole time but never asked him out. Peter Hale who has nothing to do with his life outside of college. He can’t be here. Certainly not like _this_.

Chris slouches down further in his chair and hopes the spotlight prevents the performers from seeing much beyond the edge of the stage, but he knows the exact moment Peter spots him by the way his eyes light up and his grin widens.

For some godforsaken reason, he’s dancing to “You Can Leave Your Hat On” but does not have a hat, and once he’s down to some very skimpy briefs and his boots, Chris learns why, because he makes his way very purposefully off the stage to Chris’s table, where he steals Chris’s hat and _then sits in his lap_. Jesus. Grinds in his lap, more like. Gyrates while undoing three of the snaps on Chris’s shirt.

Chris grips the edges of the seat of his chair very tightly, for fear his hands are going to do something that will get him in trouble, but, oh, it is a struggle. He knew Peter was well built, the tight shirts he wears at school don’t leave much to the imagination, not to mention how when he plays tag football, he always seems to end up on the Skins side of Shirts vs. Skins. Not that Chris notices such things on purpose; Peter just seems to always _be there_. Very noticeably. With his impressively muscled chest. And apparently very flexible hips. Chris really doesn’t need this knowledge.

Peter grins wickedly down at him, spotlight shining off his glistening skin, and Chris gives serious thought to whether he’s in heaven or hell right now. The song starts to come to an end and Peter climbs off Chris’s lap with a wink over his shoulder as he heads back up on the stage for a few more gyrations and a sweeping bow with his hat as he bends to collect his tips.

“He’s got my hat,” Chris says stupidly.

Antonio reaches across the table to punch him in the shoulder, jolting him out of his paralysis. “Well, you better go get it!”

Chris rises uncertainly and Antonio nods helpfully at a curtained doorway off the side of the stage. He’s only taken about two steps in that direction before Peter is shoving the curtain aside, Chris’s hat perched on his head again at a rakish angle.

“Hey there, cowboy. Missin’ something?”

Chris can feel his face burning and hopes he’s been in the sun enough this summer for it not to be noticeable. “Why are you here, Peter?”

Peter widens his eyes and bats his eyelashes innocently. “Well, you see, I work here.” His grin loses a little of its sharpness and he puts the hat back on Chris’s head. “The real question is, what are you doing here?”

Chris swallows and glances back at the table where the Calaveras are making encouraging gestures.

“Hmmmm,” Peter hums, looking over Chris’s shoulder. “As much as I love an audience…” He fists one hand in the front of Chris’s shirt and yanks him through the curtain before Chris can register what’s happening.

Peter pulls Chris into a dressing room, and by the time he releases Chris’s shirt, another snap has come undone. Chris looks down, embarrassed, and starts to do them up again, when Peter is back in his space, stilling Chris’s hands with his own.

“I wish you wouldn’t,” he murmurs, running his hands up Chris’s chest before he ducks under the brim of Chris’s hat to kiss him.

It’s everything Chris imagined it would be, very late at night in his dorm room: scorchingly hot, filthy, unexpectedly possessive. Peter’s hands have moved, one finding its way to the small of his back under his gaping shirt, the other curled into the hair at the nape of his neck, holding him in place as Peter breaks the kiss and presses even closer.

“You can touch me now, you know, if you want. There aren’t any rules back here.”

“If I want,” Chris huffs out on a disbelieving laugh. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted you?”

Peter’s eyes light up with what Chris can only think of as unholy glee and he suspects he may have just gotten himself into a world of trouble, though as Peter tugs him closer and Chris’s hands come down on his truly magnificent backside, he’s not really sure he cares.

“Why, Christopher Argent, aren’t you full of surprises?”

“Not once you get to know me,” Chris manages, and is fairly impressed with himself for it.

Peter kisses him again, biting a little at his lower lip before making his way down Chris’s neck, leaving Chris suddenly very grateful for the wall behind him.

Peter sucks a mark over Chris’s collarbone and leans back to admire it. “And do you want me to do that, Christopher? Do you think I should get to know you very well?”

“Yeah,” Chris breathes. He has the day off tomorrow, after all.

Peter steps back and leans out into the hall. “I’m leaving,” he yells. “Tell Ennis he can have my later slot.”

Chris can’t take his eyes off him as he shimmies into tight jeans and a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. The back features the silhouette of a rodeo rider and the slogan “Save a horse, ride a cowboy.”

Peter catches Chris rolling his eyes and grins. “It always struck me as good advice.”

Chris is shocked to find himself laughing as Peter pulls him out into the night.

* * *

Chris’s hat finds a near permanent spot hanging off Peter’s bedpost when they get back to school.

**Author's Note:**

> In my efforts to continue dragging people down into the oubliette of this ship, there is a Discord specifically for them now. Come find me on [Tumblr](https://rhysiana.tumblr.com) and ask for an invite code if you want one.


End file.
